


Like a Good Neighbor

by MoraMew



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst, Cheating and almost cheating, Depression, Drinking, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, F/M, Hooking up, Insomnia, Lyrics strewn throughout, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranoia, Pining, Relationship Problems, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and everyone hurts, it's not a happy fic, reference to past abuse, sex as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 15:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14452731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoraMew/pseuds/MoraMew
Summary: Matsukawa moved for a reason, but the past is still clinging to him and it's refusing to let go.Yachi is trying to piece her life back together, but it keeps falling apart- again and again.Life is cruel to the lonely.





	Like a Good Neighbor

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the pain train
> 
> this was going to be a one-shot, but i decided to extend it and chapter it out.

_“And all I ever want_ _  
__Is just a little love_ _  
__I said in purrs-”_ _  
__  
__“-Love me, love me_ _  
__Say that you love me-”_  
  
Matsukawa huffs as his music gets interrupted by his ringtone and snatches his phone up from the counter, answers it and tucks it between his shoulder and his ear as he flips over his grilled cheese.  
  
“What do you want?” he asks, maybe a little flat and maybe a little annoyed.  
  
He’s tired. Sleeping has been hard lately. It’s been hard, again.  
  
“Mattsun, is that any way to greet your best friend?” Oikawa whines. Matsukawa can hear the pout in his voice and wrinkles his nose, not really wanting to deal with a petulant Oikawa. “I just wanted to catch up. I feel like we haven’t talked in _ages_.”  
  
Matsukawa sighs a little guiltily and pokes at his sandwich, reaches to grab a plate from his cupboard.  
  
“Sorry,” he apologizes. He’s at least a little honest with it. He _is_ sorry, but he’s also been busy and tired and not totally up to talking to anyone that knows him. “I’m still adjusting to things. New schedule and all that.”  
  
Oikawa hums, sympathetic, and Matsukawa reaches to turn off the burner, slides the grilled cheese from pan to plate.  
  
“Do you still like your apartment?” Oikawa asks. There’s some shuffling in the background, a click of a lighter. He’s probably snuck out to smoke while Iwaizumi’s not looking. “Are your neighbors nice?”  
  
Matsukawa takes a little breath and picks up his plate, walks to plop down on his couch. He doesn’t have a proper dining area- only a bar and some stools- but that’s okay. No one’s around to see him eat lazily, anyway.  
  
“Yeah, the apartment is fine,” Matsukawa tells him, glancing around at still bare walls and half-unpacked boxes. “Neighbors are nice, I guess. I still haven’t met the one next to me.”  
  
“Seriously?” Oikawa asks with an unattractive little snort. “It’s been, what? A week now? Has Mattsun been too _shy_ to introduce himself?”  
  
Matsukawa rolls his eyes at the teasing and Oikawa huffs like he’s right there to see it.  
  
Even if he’s three hours away now.  
  
Matsukawa pushes that thought away and licks his lips, tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling.  
  
“I just haven’t had the chance to,” Matsukawa mutters. “I’ve never seen her in the hallway or anything. I’m not gonna knock on her door like some fifty year old house wife desperate for a friend.”  
  
Oikawa snickers and Matsukawa shuts his eyes at the sound, feels exhaustion sink into his bones gently. He should probably have coffee before work.  
  
“But you know your neighbor is a girl?” Oikawa asks him. He sounds maybe a bit curious, but a little distracted as well. “Think she’s cute?”  
  
“Maybe?” Matsukawa guesses, sincerely not sure and mostly uncaring if she is or not. “I only know they’re a girl ‘cause the landlady told me. Said she’s...quiet. Keeps to herself.”  
  
Oikawa hums and there’s a moment of quiet, a space of silence weighed down by a few things left unsaid between them.  
  
“How are things?” Matsukawa asks, quiet and hesitant. His fingers twitch with the need for a cigarette and he curls them into his palms, presses his phone a bit tighter against his ear. “You doin’ okay?”  
  
There’s a short splice of silence, something most people wouldn’t catch. A minuscule moment without words and then a breezy-  
  
“Yeah, of course. I’m peachy keen wonderful. Everything’s great.”  
  
Great comes with a quiet crack in Oikawa’s voice. Wonderful is too cheery. Peachy keen hides bitter thorns.  
  
It’s a shitty front, one that Matsukawa isn’t too blind to see. It hurts a little, but he lets it go, doesn’t push because Oikawa will flinch away and, even if Matsukawa isn’t really ready to talk to him, he doesn’t want Oikawa running.  
  
“Yeah?” Matsukawa asks, swallowing his sigh and opening his eyes. “That’s good. That’s...that’s good.”  
  
“Mmhmm,” Oikawa hums, quiet and a little strained. “Iwaizumi’s going on this big trip for work next month. We just found out today. He’ll be gone for, like, a week to Sapporo.”  
  
Iwaizumi. Not Iwa-chan or Hajime. Iwaizumi.  
  
Oikawa’s doing a pretty piss poor job of hiding his pain.  
  
“Sapporo,” Matsukawa comments slowly, dryly. “That’ll be fun. You going with him?”  
  
“Um...no, no.” Oikawa clears his throat and Matsukawa tries to ignore his heart breaking in his chest, grips his phone tight. “I’m staying home this time.”  
  
Oikawa’s staying home. Oikawa’s not going with Iwaizumi. Oikawa _always_ goes with Iwaizumi.  
  
This is his fault.  
  
Matsukawa closes his eyes again and runs his free hand down his face, tries to ignore the guilt twisting in his stomach.  
  
“Yeah? You’re going to get bored having no one to pester,” Matsukawa tries to tease. It falls flat, though, and Oikawa’s huff is weak in response. “You, um...you could come visit me, if you wanted. If you get bored or whatever.”  
  
Silence. Silence and then a shaky breath, a quiet “Yeah…”  
  
He doesn’t know what to say. There’s so many things he should say, so many things he needs to say, wants to say. But Matsukawa stays quiet and so does Oikawa, the two of them listening to each other breathe.  
  
“Your shift starts soon, doesn’t it?” Oikawa asks after a few minutes drip by. “Second shift, right?”  
  
He’s right. Matsukawa has fifteen minutes until he has to leave.  
  
“Yeah,” he tells him, reluctant and tired. “I’ve got to leave soon.”  
  
“I’ll let you go then,” Oikawa mutters. He clears his throat and takes a breath, shuffles around in the background of the call. “Have a good shift, Issei.”  
  
Issei. _Issei_. Shit, his heart is stinging.  
  
“Thanks,” Matsukawa breathes out, tongue wetting his lips after. “I’ll catch you later.”  
  
A hum in lieu of goodbye and then the call cuts out and Matsukawa is left staring at the ceiling and pretending that the distance isn’t as hard as it really is.  
  
He moved for a reason. It’s better this way.  
  
It’s...it’s better this way.  
  
Matsukawa forces himself to sit up and eats his grilled cheese, forces it down even if his throat tightens in protest and it weighs too heavily on his stomach. A quick cigarette, a piss, and then it’s time for him to leave.  
  
When he gets to the ground floor, his phone vibrates with a text and the message carves itself into Matsukawa’s heart when he opens it up.  
  
**From Tooru:** _I miss you._  
  
Shit.  
  
Matsukawa struggles not to reply but his fingers move despite himself and he tells him, he tells him-  
  
_I miss you too._  
  


* * *

  
Midnight. He’s just now getting home and he’s got a bottle of whiskey in a brown paper bag, a fresh pack of cigarettes, and enough exhaustion that he might be able to sleep that night.  
  
“ _-I'm falling over, and over again_ _  
__From all the words that you have said_ _  
__It's written on my heart for everyone to see-_ ”  
  
Matsukawa pushes his headphones off after he steps inside his apartment and runs his hand through his hair, hates himself because he’s just stewing in self-pity and making this worse for himself.  
  
He’s so melodramatic. Oikawa’s rubbed off on him, the fuck.  
  
Matsukawa shrugs the bitterness off just like he shrugs off his coat and pretends it’s not still lingering around his edges as he walks to the fridge, pulls out a bottle of lemonade. He cracks open the bottle of whiskey and pours some in a glass, fills it up the rest of the way with lemonade and gives it a swirl.  
  
That’s another Oikawa thing that’s rubbed off on him. He _used_ to drink whiskey with Coke.  
  
God.  
  
Matsukawa drinks some down before he can think too hard about summer nights and flushed cheeks, eyes that lingered a bit too long. He poured too much whiskey and it burns a little, but that’s okay.  
  
He carries his drink to the bedroom and shuts off his music app on the way, checks his messages and scoffs when he sees the “Read” ticked off on the last message he sent to Oikawa.  
  
Whatever.  
  
There are a few texts from Hanamaki and most of them are inane, but Matsukawa works up the energy to reply back and then lays back in bed, closes his eyes.  
  
It’s so quiet in his apartment. So quiet it feels like the silence is carving its way through his ribs, digging into his chest like a knife. There’s nothing to hear but the off kilter beating of his heart and the heat as it flicks on.  
  
He can hear that and something else, something softer through his thin walls that just barely reaches his ears.  
  
Crying. Weak sobbing. It’s his neighbor and it’s not the first night he’s heard it since he’s moved in. He’s heard it almost every night, he thinks- quiet weeping just barely seeping through thin layers of plaster and insulation and whatever else walls are made of.  
  
He hasn’t met her, hasn’t seen her but he thinks she’s probably a sad thing, lonely and upset.  
  
He wonders where her melancholy lies.  
  
Matsukawa listens for a few moments longer and then reaches over to his nightstand, grabs a little remote and clicks on his stereo, drowns her out.  
  
“ _On my own_ _  
__Pretending he's beside me_ _  
__All alone-_ ”  
  
Matsukawa tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth and smashes his thumb on a button, flits to something a little less self-indulgent.  
  
Or. Tries.  
  
“ _A hundred days have made me older_ _  
__Since the last time that I saw your pretty face-_ ”  
  
Fucking seriously? What- is he in some kind of shitty young adult romance book turned movie? _God_.  
  
Matsukawa turns off the stereo and throws the remote across the room, grits hit teeth when he hears cheap plastic crack.  
  
Whatever. He’ll watch a movie.  
  
Matsukawa pulls his laptop to him and turns it on, pretends that he can’t hear his neighbor crying and he can’t feel his heart crumbling as he jerks his headphones out of his phone jack and switches it to the laptop.  
  
Netflix and a thousand movies. He picks one at random and slugs back whiskey and lemonade, pulls his knees to his chest and squeezes the headphones tight against his ears.  
  
He doesn’t sleep until five in the morning and spends half the night pretending he doesn’t mind being alone.  
  


* * *

  
Two weeks into the move and Matsukawa’s a bit more used to things. His heart still beats out of pattern and he still can’t sleep the best, but all of his shit is finally unpacked and his apartment is decorated. His work schedule has been made a bit more concrete and he’s been eating a little more than he was, got himself a membership to the twenty four hour gym on the corner of the block and started easing into working out again.  
  
It’s progress.  
  
He still hasn’t met his neighbor, but the rest seem to like him okay enough, nod at him when they pass each other on the stairs. He hasn’t really made friends since he’s moved, but that’s okay, it’s alright. He’ll gain some whenever.  
  
Oikawa’s been texting him more than he should, clinging with calls late at night and sending strings of rambling messages that seem as if they don’t hold any substance but hide little bits of hurt underneath the cavalier way Oikawa sends them.  
  
_I don’t know what to eat tonight. Iwaizumi’s working late again and he was supposed to pick something up_  (￢_￢;)  
  
_I’m so tired. I can’t sleep without Iwaizumi’s snores as white noise. He’s ruined me_ (눈_눈)  
  
_I’m so boooooorrrreeeeddddd. I need a cat or something. Working from home is so lonely_ _!_ _Iwaizumi won’t let me get one_ _. He’s so mean!_  o(TヘTo)  
  
Reading them is like biting into a lemon; Matsukawa’s mouth always goes sour and his heart twists more and more with each one.  
  
It’s still Iwaizumi. He still doesn’t call him Iwa-chan, won’t even go to Hajime.  
  
It’s not his problem, Matsukawa tells himself after each text he gets. They’ll work it out. They always do.  
  
...it still hurts, though.  
  


* * *

  
Three weeks into the move and he finally meets his neighbor.  
  
It’s when he least expects it- when he’s coming home from the gym at two in the morning and fiddling with his phone, fantasizing about face planting into bed. He crashes into her on the second floor landing as he turns to walk up the stairs, head dropped to stare at his phone until he runs into her.  
  
“... _Words and dreams and a million screams_ _  
__Oh, how I need a hand in mine to feel…_ ”  
  
Matsukawa blinks down at where she’s been knocked to the floor, watches her mouth a silent “ow,” and guiltily pushes his headphones to rest on his neck, sticks out his hand apologetically to help her up.  
  
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”  
  
Flinches. She flinches at the sound of his voice and scrambles to her feet without accepting his hand. Her own hastily smooth over her outfit and then she curls fingers into the fabric of a too big sweater, shoulders hunched and head bowed.  
  
She doesn’t look at him and that kind of hits him the wrong way, but then her shoulders shake and he remembers how late it is, realizes how uneasy someone so _tiny-_  seriously, she’s what? Four ten?-could feel after being slammed into by someone tall and unknown.  
  
Ah, shit.  
  
“Um...sorry, I really didn’t mean to run into you,” he apologizes again, sincerely. Her shoulders hunch more and her head stays bowed, blonde hair hiding any expression she’s holding. “Uh, I don’t think we’ve met. I just moved in a few weeks ago. You live here too, yeah?”  
  
She nods, but she doesn’t say anything and Matsukawa shuffles awkwardly, scratches at his cheek in the silence.  
  
“I’m Matsukawa,” he tells her after a moment, trying to push away the discomfort in the air. He’s pretty sure she’s his neighbor and his mind won’t shut the fuck up about how many times he’s heard her crying. “Matsukawa Issei. I moved into apartment 24.”  
  
She stays quiet and her shoulders shake again, fingers clutching her sweater tighter as she keeps her head ducked.  
  
“...Ya- Yachi Hitoka,” she whispers, voice so soft and quiet he almost can’t make it out. “Apartment 26.”  
  
“So, we’re neighbors,” he comments, already having figured it. “Nice to meet you.”  
  
Yachi just nods and mumbles the pleasantry back, the words cracking in odd places. Matsukawa eyes her and tries not to feel offended with her hesitance and the way she almost seems scared, takes a deep breath instead and runs a hand through his hair.  
  
“Well, um, sorry again,” he tells her. “I should head up, but it was nice to finally meet you.”  
  
She nods and she still doesn’t look up and Matsukawa swallows a sigh and steps to the side, begins to head up to his apartment.  
  
Well. The landlady _did_ say she was quiet.  
  
Whatever. Doesn’t matter.  
  


* * *

  
Two days later and he has a day off, finds her mail in his box.  
  
He wonders about it for a few moments and taps the envelopes against his palm, tries to decide if he should wait to hand them over or if he should just go on ahead and do it. He doesn’t know when the hell she’s home or what her schedule is like and doesn’t want to bother her.  
  
But…it’s her mail. There might be something important for her waiting in these plain little envelopes. He shouldn’t hold onto them.  
  
Matsukawa sighs to himself and raises a hand to fiddle with his earbud, scowls over his headphones finally giving out the day before. He’ll need to get a new set when he gets paid and he’s not that pleased over it.  
  
He’s had them since sophomore year of college. Oikawa gave them to him for his birthday along with a kiss to the cheek and a mumble of “Happy birthday, Issei.” It sends an aching creeping through his chest knowing that his gift is worn out, that he has to toss the headphones away whenever he finds the nerve.  
  
It’s a sign, maybe. Probably.  
  
Or not. He _has_ had them for ages now.  
  
Matsukawa sighs and turns to head up the stairs, nods when he passes the nice older woman that pressed cookies into his hands the day after he moved in. She smiles at him and it’s warm, something that makes it a little bit easier to breathe.  
  
The earbud falls out of his left ear when he reaches the second floor and Matsukawa huffs to himself, sticks it back in with an annoyed frown. Shitty, cheap piece of crap.  
  
“ _...You're like me_ _  
__We're both alone_ _  
__What's the problem_ _  
__I don't know…_ ”  
  
Matsukawa sighs, but then flicks a polite smile onto his face as he passes by another neighbor, hurries on up to his floor. It’s seven at night, but he thinks it’s not too late to knock on Yachi’s door and he does so without hesitation- three solid knocks that break the quiet of the hallway.  
  
Knock. Knock. Knock.  
  
Nothing. He knocks again and then slips the buds out of his ears, drapes them over his neck like a scarf. There’s some movement and then the door knob turns, the door creaks open a pitiful amount and his neighbor’s face pops out from behind it- wide eyed and nervous as her teeth press into her bottom lip and her brows knit together.  
  
_Pretty_ is the first thought that pops into his mind. The second is that she reminds him of a rabbit he had as a kid- scared and trembling with big, big eyes.  
  
She clutches at her chest and bunches the fabric of her much too large hoodie between thin fingers, swallows as she eyes him warily.  
  
“Ye-Yes?” she asks, whispering it out.  
  
Oh, he hasn’t said anything.  
  
Matsukawa clears his throat and holds the envelopes up, gives them a little wave as explanation of his intrusion into her evening.  
  
“I got some of your mail,” he tells her. “I thought you would want it.”  
  
Yachi frowns and suspicion colors her face, has him raising a brow. She bites her lip and then hesitantly nods, lets go of her grip on her hoodie and reaches a not so subtly trembling hand forward. Her shoulders jump when he places her mail into her palm and her head bows, face dipping from sight as she presses the envelopes to her chest.  
  
“Thank...thank you,” she mumbles, hunching into herself.  
  
Matsukawa tilts his head, but pushes away the curious thought of her nearly _submissive_ nature, shakes his head and fixes a smile on his face just in case she lifts her gaze.  
  
She doesn’t.  
  
“Um...it’s no problem,” he tells her, scratching the back of his head. “Have a good night, Yachi-san.”  
  
She nods and there’s a whispered, barely there “you too” that floats from her, the door quickly shutting right after. He hears the lock click into place and then another, takes a deep breath and sends it out in one big  _woosh_.  
  
Does she not like him? Or is she that way with everyone?  
  
Whatever.  
  
It takes two steps to situate himself in front of his apartment door and Matsukawa opens it after fumbling with his keys, steps inside and closes his eyes.  
  
He’s only been up since noon, but it feels like he’s been up for so much longer. He’s so tired. Maybe he should sleep.  
  
Matsukawa sighs and then blinks when his phone vibrates in his pocket, three long _bzzts_ that pause and then repeat themselves insistently. When he checks, it’s Oikawa calling and for a moment- for one long moment- he thinks about not answering it.  
  
He does, though. He always does.  
  
“Yo,” he answers, tired and only barely able to suppress a yawn as he starts walking toward his balcony, digging his cigarettes out as he does. “What’s up?”  
  
“Honestly, Mattsun, you really should learn how to answer your phone properly,” Oikawa scolds in a lazy, dull sort of tone. “What if it was your boss? Someone important?”  
  
As if Oikawa’s not important.  
  
Matsukawa rolls his eyes and unlocks his balcony door, steps out and plops himself down onto the shitty folding chair he picked up from the thrift store the week before. He pulls a cigarette out from his pack before answering, lights it up and takes a drag.  
  
“Like I don’t know it’s you calling,” he says, dryly, absently looking over at the complex across the street. “You need something?”  
  
“No. Can’t I call just to talk?” Oikawa asks with a huff. There’s some muffled sound in the background- someone talking- and Oikawa lets out an aggravated noise, shuffles around. “Iwaizumi’s packing for his _trip_. I’m bored.”  
  
Oh. Oh.  
  
Matsukawa blows out a plume of smoke and watches it curl out into the night air, tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth and then lets it go. On the other end of the line there’s something like the slam of a door and Matsukawa can’t help but sigh and grip the arm of his chair a little too tight.  
  
Oikawa’s not even trying to hide he’s pissed. It’s bad, then. It’s really bad.  
  
“Yeah?” he mumbles, maybe a moment too late. “He leaves tomorrow, right?”  
  
“Day after,” Oikawa corrects, bitter and sharp. “He’s just being diligent. Getting things ready.”  
  
Matsukawa swallows back the comfort that he wants to give and hums instead, opens his eyes and stares at the stars above, muted pinpoints of light that are just barely visible in the glow of city lights.  
  
“You figure out what you’re going to do for the week?” he asks, words feeling distant and dry as he lets them out. “I know you said you thought about taking a trip to some spa or whatever.”  
  
Oikawa breathes in deep and Matsukawa takes another drag of his cigarette, stays patient as Oikawa gathers himself and puts his front back together.  
  
“Yeah...Makki and I are going to go to one in the next city over, but we’ll only be there for two days,” Oikawa informs him, voice pitching to too casual chipperness. “I was thinking of going to visit the family, but...mom’s going on her own business trip and sis is taking Takeru to the beach so…I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”  
  
Matsukawa chews on his inner cheek so he doesn’t sigh and licks his lips, lets his mouth run free even if his mind tells him he’s being a fucking _idiot_.  
  
“You can still come visit if you want,” Matsukawa offers, hating himself even as his heart skips with some foolish hope. “Offer’s still on the table.”  
  
A moment of silence, a quiet inhale and then exhale.  
  
“Maybe,” Oikawa all but whispers. “I...maybe.”  
  
Matsukawa hums and he hopes it sounds as neutral as he tries for, takes a drag of his cigarette and feels lonely ichor drip from his ribs and into his stomach.  
  
“I...Um, I think,” Oikawa starts after a moment, uncertain and vulnerable in a way that sends instant worry screaming through Matsukawa’s veins. Oikawa takes a deep breath and Matsukawa blinks, sits up a little straighter. “I think...I think that-”  
  
A door opening and slamming in the background, Iwaizumi’s voice muffled and upset.  
  
“Shit,” Oikawa hisses. “ _Shit_. I, um, I gotta go. I’ll catch you later.”  
  
And before Matsukawa can so much as say goodbye, Oikawa hangs up and he’s left by himself, staring at his lap and struggling not to let his mind wonder about what the hell is going on.  
  
It’s not his problem. It’s not his business.  
  
What was Oikawa going to say?  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
Matsukawa licks his lips and takes a shaky breath, drags his free hand down his face and then grips his hair.  
  
Whatever. _Whatever_.  
  
He stabs his cigarette out on the balcony railing and tosses it into the ashtray, stands and heads inside for something a little stronger, something that will push back the emotions crawling through his ribs and up into his throat.  
  
A lot of vodka and a little bit of Sprite. A blunt and his earbuds, music turned up loud enough it drowns out his thoughts and the quiet sniffling from next door.  
  
“... _I feel like I'm drowning_ _  
__Aah, drowning_ _  
__You're holding me down and_ _  
__Holding me down_ _  
__You're killing me slow_ _  
__So slow, oh-no_ …”  
  


* * *

  
Five days later, half past two in the morning.  
  
****From Tooru:****   _When are your days off? I want to come over._ _  
_  
Matsukawa breathes in deep and lets it out slowly, listens to the quiet breathing of the sleeping stranger beside him. It’s a little muffled by the rain hitting against his window, the thunder rumbling outside.  
  
He breathes in again, deeper and sharper, and swallows after, types out a message in the quiet.  
  
_Tomorrow and the day after._  
  
A reply comes almost instantly and Matsukawa grips at his hair, tries not to flinch away when his partner for the night rolls over and reaches out a hand to run over him, trace fingers down his arm.  
  
****From Tooru:****   _See you tomorrow then_  
  
“You gonna sleep or what?” Stranger- their name is...Hiroo, maybe?- asks, sleepy and mumbling.  
  
“Yeah...yeah,” Matsukawa tells him, taking a breath after. “Just checking my phone.”  
  
A hum and Maybe-Hiroo-Maybe-Not-Hiroo rolls over and away. Matsukawa bites into his inner cheek and stares at his phone, tries to ignore how hard his heart is pounding in his chest.  
  
_Yeah, see you then._  
  


* * *

  
A little past five in the afternoon, the next day. Matsukawa kicked Hiroo- he had been right about the name- out earlier and spent most of the day cleaning, making sure his apartment didn’t look like a shit show. It still looks like a shit show, he thinks, but it’s not going to get any better than this. It’ll be fine. It’ll be alright.  
  
He hopes.  
  
Matsukawa ends up sitting on the couch once he finishes cleaning, checking his phone and feeling too keyed up. He should be more calm than this, he knows, but he can’t shut off his racing thoughts or the feeling that something is _wrong_.  
  
He shouldn’t be getting involved. He’s a fucking idiot.  
  
He’s selfish.  
  
Matsukawa groans to himself and throws his head back against the couch, tries desperately to pretend that it’s nothing and that his heart still doesn’t hold feelings he swore to rid himself of long ago. There’s a knock on the door that interrupts anxious foot tapping, restless lip biting.  
  
Oikawa.  
  
He’s up from the couch before he knows it, clicking off his stereo, shutting off-  
  
“- _Oh now I do recall_ _  
__We were just getting to the part_ _  
__Where the shock sets in_ _  
__And the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick_ -”  
  
A deep breath and a lick of his lips, some long strides to the front door. Another knock sounds before he can answer and he huffs at the impatience of it, forces himself to be relaxed as he unlocks the door and opens it.  
  
Oikawa. Oikawa with a duffel bag over his shoulder and bags under his eyes, irises a little red and clavicle too visible, skin too pale to be healthy.  
  
He looks awful.  
  
He looks beautiful.  
  
Matsukawa means to gloss over things with a tease, hides his electric apprehension with some sarcastic “took you long enough” but his mouth shoots off and the words get lost somewhere in the journey and all he does is breathe out a too raw, too vulnerable,  
  
“ _Tooru…_ ”  
  
Lips twitch and then curl up, something wet forming in caramel eyes before it’s blinked away.  
  
“Issei,” Oikawa whispers. It’s too soft and they both know it, they both swallow and let everything hang between them. The moment lingers a bit too long and then snaps like overstretched elastic, Oikawa licking his lips and plastering a bright smile onto his face. “Still haven’t learned to use a brush, I see.”  
  
Matsukawa scoffs at the teasing and pretends like his heart isn’t swelling with familiar warmth, clicks his tongue and beckons Oikawa with a crook of his finger.  
  
”And you’re still missing sleep and skipping meals,” Matsukawa drawls, pulling a lazy tone over his concern. “Typical Tooru.”  
  
Oikawa huffs and Matsukawa watches his gaze dart to the side, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he grips the strap of his duffel bag tightly before forcing himself to relax. There’s another moment of waiting and then Oikawa finally steps into Matsukawa’s apartment, looks back at him and darts his tongue out to wet his lips as the door swings shut behind him.  
  
“I guess I need someone to look after me,” Oikawa tells him, almost whispering it. The words make Matsukawa swallow and the way Oikawa’s eyes move over him makes his heart skip over a beat. “If you’re so worried, make sure to take care of me during my stay.”  
  
“Don’t I always?” Matsukawa retorts, the question flying out easily. It’s so easy to fall into teasing again, the tug and pull of conversations dancing around truth.  
  
Oikawa hums and he nods, eyes lingering before he moves to walk further into the apartment.  
  
“You do,” Oikawa murmurs, brushing past Matsukawa. “Issei always takes good care of me.”  
  
God, and now there’s a quickening to the beating of his heart, a familiar feeling curling through his veins that shouldn’t be there. Matsukawa swallows to try to force it away, but it stays as it’s stayed since high school, as it’s stayed for achingly long years. It’s never left him, not once.  
  
He doubts it ever will.  
  
Matsukawa breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, turns to face Oikawa again and take in the way his figure cuts dark against the fading sunlight.  
  
“Lucky you,” Matsukawa tells him, words rough and throat dry. “C’mon, I’ll show you where to put your things.”  
  
Oikawa nods and Matsukawa waves him toward the bedroom, anticipation and heartbreak thrumming through him with each step.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs featured in the chapter:  
> 1)[“Toes” by Glass Animals](https://youtu.be/z4ifSSg1HAo)  
> 2)[“Lovefool” by The Cardigans](https://youtu.be/NI6aOFI7hms)  
> 3)[“With Ears to See and Eyes to Hear” by Sleeping with Sirens](https://youtu.be/mjT_NlbZhco)  
> 4)[“On my Own (cover)” by annapantsu](https://youtu.be/xlCS0rPp4UI)  
> 5)[“Here Without You” by Three Doors Down](https://youtu.be/Ek0WmeoLK-A)  
> 6)[“Across the Sea” by Weezer](https://youtu.be/bBSkPGgfDQs)  
> 7)[“Dead Things” by Emiliana Torrini](https://youtu.be/HtWuZIvYMIw)  
> 8)[“I Feel Like I’m Drowning” by Two Feet](https://youtu.be/WkVvG4QTO9M)  
> 9)[“Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off” by Panic! At The Disco](https://youtu.be/8AZxUtZ2ZgI)
> 
> Come say hi and hello on [my tumblr](https://moramew.tumblr.com/)~


End file.
